


Kill of the Night

by deareststars



Series: music is the only pleasure we have [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, F/M, M/M, Other, Pre-Canon, Reader is a BAMF, Telekinesis, all of the character tags are mainly mentions, but i didn't want to rewrite it because i liked it, lakjsf, lol i wrote this and quickly realized that yes they are only going to be mentions, this is a prequel to "this year's love", you kind of forgive him too easily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 15:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18252314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deareststars/pseuds/deareststars
Summary: As a result, he thought you might be helping out behind the counter, or maybe moving shit around with your telekinesis if you were feeling especially wild.What he didn't except was you, up at the ring wearing a tight tanktop and shorts, beating the everliving shit out of your opponent.---based off of "kill of the night" by gin wigmore





	Kill of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> i know this song plays for five's scene in the tube room, but honestly i think this fits in kind of well with the fanfiction so uhh sorry canon, but you're dead for this
> 
> also, this is shorter than the other diego short because i wanted to balance it out; all the other stories are around 2400 and that one was like 3100, so this is 2000 to even out the scales, y'know?
> 
> i'll be writing these in the order that i uploaded them, so next is going to be a klaus fanfiction based off of s o m e t h i n g

Diego didn't see you much after the Umbrella Academy split up. He went into the police academy and you ended up...somewhere, he supposed, but definitely not dead in a ditch because he saw you every month and you never looked worse for wear. You still had that manic energy in your eyes and that stupid little grin on your face, maybe a little more tired each time he laid his eyes on you, but it never died out completely.

 

Your romance with him died out a couple months into his police training, seeing as how he met a charming woman named Eudora Patch in his months there. She was everything he wanted - brave, strong, beautiful, and hopeful. Maybe he was to blame for your friendship drifting apart as well, but he couldn't help but devote his time to the love of his life. She offered him a place to live and a person to love, and in exchange, he wanted to give her everything he had. Your monthly visits turned into ten minute lunches whenever he was able to.

 

Then came the most trying part of his life.

 

His passion for policework began to die out as well. He despised how much of a leash the law kept him on, barely a foot to give with a series of rulebooks for him to follow. He was so used to running around with a mask on, throwing knives and killing the bad guys without much remorse, and he figured that becoming a police officer would give him a small taste for that. Sadly, though, the mask became figurative chains, and he started to grow snappy with Eudora, who didn't really care much for it.

 

Their first huge fight came a couple weeks before he would inevitably drop out. He can't remember what it was about now, but he  _could_ remember the disappointment and rage on her face as she stormed out of their apartment and went to stay at a friend's for the night. He ate dinner by himself that night, and wistfully remembered the old days where you'd be across from him every month, eating your food with a reckless abandon and laughing at something stupid Klaus had told you. It hurt that you were closer to Klaus than you were to him, but then again, he supposed it was his fault for that as well.

 

Eudora began to fight with him almost every few days, their temper and toleration for the other's bullshit becoming smaller and smaller until the slightest hint of irritation became a landmine. He grew crankier and crankier until he finally snapped and told Eudora he was dropping out of the police academy, which, understandably, set her off as well. She'd supported him through everything and anything that he did, he remembered her yelling, and now he was just going to throw all that out?

 

Diego had said something that set her off again, and this time he found himself out on the streets, driving around an old car that he didn't even know the model or make of. His duffel bag was shoved in the backseat, a police radio he'd snagged from an unsuspecting recruit hidden inside one of the pockets. He called you for the the first time in a while, his voice bordering on anxiety as he asked how you were doing and if you knew anywhere he'd be able to stay for a while.

 

You had been surprisingly energetic with your response. _"Of course, man!"_ you had said, unfamiliar sounds coming from your side of the call.  _"I'll text you the address in a second. It's a boxing gym. The owner's a cranky old white guy, but I know for a fact he's looking for a cleaner, and the boiler room has a nice bed and punching bag you can use when you start to go through your inevitable emo phase."_

 

He'd rolled his eyes at that, but true to your word, when he hung up, you texted him the address and he began driving away from a life abiding by the law and toward one where he'd be a masked vigilante. You were the only variable in that incredibly thought-out equation, but he prayed you would be a positive one and not a negative one.

 

That's how he found himself in front of a dingy old boxing gym. His duffel bag was slung over one shoulder, and as of now he had yet to don the BDSM-approved outfits that you would see him in later. All he had were a black sweater, jeans, and combat boots, all of which made up his outfits for the rest of his time here. It might be a couple days, it might be a few months; hell, for all he knew, he'd die in that room, but he'd take a shot.

 

When Diego walked into the boxing gym, he didn't know where to find you. It was your fault that you'd built up this static image of yourself in his mind; the only two versions he'd known were the one when you two had been kids (badass but kind of moody, with a sprinkle of kindness and a hint of sarcastic asshole) and the one he'd seen at your monthly check-ups (borderline insane but still with that smidge of kindness and empathy.) As a result, he thought you might be helping out behind the counter, or maybe moving shit around with your telekinesis if you were feeling especially wild.

 

What he didn't except was you, up at the ring wearing a tight tanktop and shorts, beating the everliving shit out of your opponent.

 

That was when he saw your old self shine through - you looked like a professional boxer, dodging the guy's punches and kicks with the grace of someone who knew what they were doing. He hesitated to call your opponent your assailant, because if he called the guy that it would imply that you were getting an equal amount of force dealt back to you. From his place behind you, he could make out a bruise on your jaw, which was disproportionate to the watercolors splashed across your opponent's face and arms.

 

Finally, the guy conceded, and you backed off. The eldery guy that had made eye contact with him before hopped onto the ring, first talking to you before walking to the defeated man. He gestured toward Diego and said something that made you punch him in the shoulder, but you soon turned around and jumped out of the ring. You walked toward him confidently, your boxing gloves still on your hands, and for a moment he was scared that you were going to beat the shit out of him for ditching you like that.

 

His mouth was already open to apologize, but you quickly cut him off by throwing your gloves down to the ground and tackling him in a hug. Your body was soaked with sweat and you took full advantage of that, holding him close to you and messing up the back of his head with your hand. "Diego, how have you been?" you said, finally stepping back and smirking when you saw his expression. He looked like a disgruntled cat, giving you the stink eye as he patted down the back of his hair.

 

"Better when you didn't attack me," he muttered. You grinned and used your telekinesis to lift up his duffel bag, then looped your arm through his. He felt a pang deep in his chest for the nostalgia of the movement, but he tried to push it down as deep as he could and instead said, "I'm surprised you're keeping up on your powers."

 

You rose an eyebrow and guided him to the boiler room. As you spoke, you leaned down and unlocked the door with a key you'd procured out of your pocket. It swung open and you pressed the key into his hand. "And you're saying you haven't been? Sure, Reggie may have been an asshole, but if these are my powers then I'm going to make them mine. You know what I'm saying?"

 

He nodded and walked down the stairs. The room was devoid of any personality, but much like you'd said there was a decent sized bed fashioned into a small alcove, with a pole in the middle and a punching bag hanging from the rafters. To his left, along the wall there was a row of counters, a minifridge, and a stove. "Nice," he said, turning to you. "Where are you staying?"

 

You waved your hand dismissively. "Oh, I found a decent-sized apartment downtown," you replied. "I would offer you a place to stay instead of this place, but I wouldn't want to get in the way of you and Miss Eudora."

 

There. That was the biting remark he'd been waiting for. But even though he'd been expecting it, he still winced at your scathing tone. You weren't making eye contact with him now, instead looking down at the floor steadfastly.

 

"I'm sorry about ditching you like that," he said, closing the door so the two of you would have privacy. "It's just, I was so confident that she was going to be the one, and I didn't want to be second best at something again. I wanted to give her everything I had, and sadly that included having to leave you behind."

 

You glanced up at that, and he cursed himself because for the first time in his life, that gleam in your eyes was replaced by a sadness he'd never seen before. At least, it was a sadness he hadn't seen in years, and he hated that it was because of him. "You said 'was,'" you noted. "What happened?"

 

He chuckled dryly and recounted the argument that had left him without a place to stay. Your frown deepened and deepened, and you almost looked disappointed in him. Or maybe in the situation. Either way, you were disappointed, and he wanted to make it to where you weren't anymore.

 

Before he could say anything, you punched him in the shoulder. "That's for leaving me, you dick." Then, as if spurred on by some outside force, you hugged him tightly. Even though he was telling himself that he didn't deserve to hold you like this, he held you just as close and rested his face in your hair, feeling himself begin to tremble.

 

"I missed you," he murmured. "I'm so sorry. This won't ever happen again."

 

Your laugh vibrated against his chest and you pulled back to look up at him. Your eyebrow was raised, and even though the gleam was dim, it was still there, like a fire lighting up your eyes in vibrant hues. "I mean, that's debatable," you teased. "But regardless, I missed you too." Even that stupid little smirk was starting to appear on your face, and he couldn't lie to himself and say that it didn't please him to see it finally aimed at him.

 

And as if that wasn't enough, you looked upward and pressed a kiss against his cheek. "And even if that was out of bounds, consider that part two of my revenge." Your smirk was even larger now, pulling at the bruise on your jaw, and you tapped his chest firmly with a finger. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go ice my jaw and hopefully not run into anymore knife-throwing sissies on my way out, which reminds me, we need to get you some weapons or something, so I'll see you later!"

 

It had been such a long time since you'd hit him with a verbal trainwreck as well. He gaped at you, and before he could recover, you peeled away from him and skipped out of the room. He stared after you, duffel bag forgotten on the floor. He touched the spot where you'd kissed him. It had been right over a scar he'd gotten from one of your first missions together; which, coincidentally, was also the mission you'd first kissed him on the cheek.

 

"Asshole," he muttered, although he couldn't deny that his heart was feeling light for the first time in ages.

 

_The street's a liar_

 

_I'm gonna lure you into the dark_

_  
My cold desire_

_  
To hear the boom, boom, boom of your heart_


End file.
